


Southern Discomfort

by Coffeebookboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Hannibal is thirsty as fuck, Humidity, Just a short little thing for now, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Sexual Fantasy, domestic as fuck, sweat fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22208944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeebookboy/pseuds/Coffeebookboy
Summary: Hannibal hates the heat, but seeing Will disheveled is more than worth it.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Comments: 4
Kudos: 148





	Southern Discomfort

When the air gets too moist and heavy, and breathing feels like a chore, you might find most people ducking inside. Seeking out A/C or dehumidifiers, whining to any keen ear about how sluggish they feel and reminiscing together about cool nights and the crunch of snow. The crackling of autumn’s leaves underfoot or the enlivening scent of freshly rolled hay bales that _almost_ make hay fever worth it. Anything that vaguely resembles easy breathing, no matter how extreme the weather or where it was experienced, becomes more than a memory. It becomes a collective escape for the masses. It is for this very reason that those who live in the Eastern United States, or have migrated to the South, pick vacation spots as far away as possible every summer. The funny thing is when you stumble across that rare someone who actually enjoys humidity. Or better yet, extreme heat in general, regardless of the water in the air.

Will Graham is one of those people.

This was discovered in the usual way, by being shoved into the exact horrid climate described above. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was not at all pleased with his discovery of a new quirk. It was in fact, the most disappointing of all the easter egg traits he’d discovered during his hunt for information about Will. This hunt predated their current predicament of course. By nearly 8 years now. They’d been on the run for 2 years and 5 months, and Hannibal had known him for 5 years and 5 months prior to their dance with the dragon. Not that he was counting.

The day he’d met Will stood out in his memory like a sore thumb, but it was not a memory he’d like to be rid of. On that day he’d made many predictions about how the course of his life being interrupted by Will’s rough and winding creek might change his path and lead him to incredible places. This, he knew was not one of them.

“Aren’t scared of a little sun, are you?” Will called out to Hannibal, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand.

“I love the sun in certain circumstances. It’s the air I’m worried about. I’m afraid it’s thick enough I would most certainly have to swim to you. I’m content where I am.”

Will shook his head, obviously amused, and turned his attention back to his weeding. He’d taken up gardening since they found the house they currently occupied, intending to make it as homey as possible. Maybe that was too optimistic, but domesticity was addictive in its own right, and required maintenance. Just like a garden. To avoid unnecessary arguments, he focused himself on household tasks. Ensuring he had plenty of alone time meant he could greater appreciate every moment shared. He was foolishly aimlessly in love and they were both hard at work at repairing the damaged trust between them. Sweating like a fountain, he used the underside of his forearm to wipe sweat from his brow and then continued on, unbothered.

“And I enjoy the view.” Hannibal said to himself, somewhat quieter. More out of hushed reverence and intimidation that any attempt to salvage his dignity. Anyone who could enjoy such physical labour with little return in this weather deserved fear and respect in equal parts. He was about as comfortable as he could be. In a wicker chair in the shade, pad of paper on his lap, pencil poised in one hand, unsweetened iced tea in the other. He wondered yet again how Will had convinced him to settle here, and especially out of a summer vacation in Nepal. Something about hiding in plain sight, was it? Of course. Very convincing. It was nearly impossible to say no to Will anymore, to deny him anything he wanted. Hannibal was convinced he’d happily serve up his own heart on a platter if asked.

His heart would’ve been racing if not for immense self control. Will was stripping off his sweat soaked shirt, revealing a healthy body, just beginning to establish a tan. Patches of red brown on the back of his neck and shoulders where what was likely Saxon-Irish blood caused him to redden instead of burn. A tan that may not be the most attractive, but was preferable to peeling. Will came from a long line of American nobodies. Working class southern men hardened to the sun. His genealogy likely wouldn’t have been an impossible task, even factoring in illegitimate children out of wedlock -a very unchristian phenomena- to the mix. But Will had showed no interest in his own heritage or reconnecting with lost family members, even his own mother. And so Hannibal made no effort. All that mattered was that Hannibal was his family now. That loyalty would never be questioned or tested again.

His eyes dropped to admire straining hamstrings, splattered with muddy water above Will’s boots. The sweat creating actual clean lines that dripped down his skin, cutting through the grime and standing out like scars. The weak breeze carried his scent in Hannibal’s direction and the doctor happily drank it in, sighing in ecstasy. There was no denying the existence of animal attraction in modern day human beings. Even for someone like Hannibal, who held himself above society when convenient for him, the efforts of pheromones was undeniable. The salty sweet aroma that was so intoxicatingly _Will_ never failed to stun him. A weaker man would’ve drooled. Will cast another glance in his lover’s direction, feeling his eyes burning through his cut-off jeans.

“How’s your drawing coming?” There was a knowing tone. Not accusatory. Just a tease. _‘I know you’re watching.’_

“Hm?” Hannibal snapped to. “Oh yes.. it’s coming along nicely. Why don’t we break for lunch?”Will chuckled.

“Fine.” He said. “What have you got in mind?”

“Something light.”

“Thank God.”

**Author's Note:**

> Might write some more of Hannibal’s fantasies coming true if I get around to it? This was fun.


End file.
